


Reaching Out

by J_E_McCormick



Category: Batman - All Media Types, DC Animated Universe
Genre: Father Son Bonding, Gen, batfam, father and son times, i just wanna see Damian being looked after by his papa
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-03-22
Updated: 2018-03-22
Packaged: 2019-04-06 12:59:30
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,262
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14057499
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/J_E_McCormick/pseuds/J_E_McCormick
Summary: “What was it you wanted, Damian?” Bruce asks delicately.Damian’s face pinches and he looks away from Bruce again. Emotion, softness, has never been Damian’s forte. He seems to think of emotion as weakness, and does his best to crush it mercilessly. At the age of only eleven, it can’t be good for him. Or easy.“I… I woke up distressed.” He begins falteringly. “And I… did not wish to be… alone. So I thought I would call for you.”





	Reaching Out

**Author's Note:**

> I reckon everyone is sick of seeing me pop up in random fandoms every few months or so. This month's flavour is Batman.
> 
> I am extremely new to DC, I've never really read any of their comics, and I've only recently started watching through the DCAMU and Young Justice - so in that aspect, you'll have to forgive me for how little lore and continuity I really know. However, I'm already loving the Batfam, and Damian is my new son, so I'm sure I'll catch up on them soon enough.
> 
> Anyway I wrote this because I just wanted to see some nice father/son interactions between Bruce and Damian.

It is late. Bruce has left the nightly patrols to Dick – every so often his eldest insists that Batman (and, now, Robin) take a break from being the head of Gotham’s crime fighting to get some decent sleep and rest in. Really, Bruce tends to feel more antsy when he’s homebound, and he knows Damian gets restless. But, Dick has solid logic and Alfred on his side. So, in lieu of night patrols around Gotham’s streets, he does rounds of his mansion’s halls until tiredness takes him.

“Father…”

At first, Bruce isn’t entirely sure he actually heard anything, the voice is so quiet.

“Father…”

This time he definitely recognises Damian’s voice and can detect the undercurrent of a childish whine in the word – a sound that forecasts upset, a sound to stir every paternal instinct he has. He starts to make his way through the halls towards Damian’s bedroom.

“Father!”

“I’m here, Damian.” Bruce soothes, cracking open the bedroom door and peering in. He doesn’t step in fully; Damian likes his space, his privacy. Bruce has learnt to hold back and allow his son to invite him closer as he needs, rather than pressing forward himself.

Damian looks up at him, for a moment startled. His eyes reflect light from the hallway, wide and shining, fear hidden behind shame.

“Father, I…” Damian trails off, his eyes lowering to stare at his hands as he worries them. He is curled into himself with his knees drawn up to his chest, his fingers knotting themselves in and out of the sheets, eyes downcast in a way uncharacteristic of him.

For once, Damian looks like a scared young boy.

Bruce steps carefully into the room, crossing over to Damian’s bedside and turning on the dim bedside lamp. He kneels down, bringing himself to his son’s level, and watches him carefully, waiting to see if he will speak up again. Instead, Damian simply sits in silence and twists the sheets in his hands, stubborn in his refusal to look over at Bruce.

“It’s strange not to be on patrol, isn’t it?” Bruce says quietly after a few moments, bringing the focus to something familiar and easy. He can see Damian’s shoulders relax a little.

“Yes, it is.” The young boy says softly. “I am unused to such periods of little work.”

“Believe me, so am I.” Bruce tells him. “But it is important, to take breaks, get your mind off duty for a while.”

“But what if something happens while we are not there? When we are not prepared?” Damian asks, glancing sidelong at Bruce – not quite turning to face him head-on. It’s an aversion tactic, intending to shield Bruce from reading him so directly. Damian employs body language like that a lot.

Bruce chuckles quietly, patting Damian’s shoulder. “We really are very alike.” He smiles. “I always worry the same thing. But Nightwing has taken up the mantle, and though we often forget it, we are not the only in heroes in Gotham. The city is safe without us for now.”

“I suppose.” Damian concedes. He had tensed briefly beneath Bruce’s touch, but now he has relaxed into it, even pressed into his hand. Bruce has always thought Damian is a little touch-starved, but doesn’t know how to ask for or initiate affection. His time with his mother and Ra’s has really done a number on him – always avoidant, isolated, reluctant to open up to anyone about anything. Bruce gently rubs his son’s back.

“What was it you wanted, Damian?” He asks delicately.

Damian’s face pinches and he looks away from Bruce again. Emotion, softness, has never been Damian’s forte. He seems to think of emotion as weakness, and does his best to crush it mercilessly. At the age of only eleven, it can’t be good for him. Or easy.

“I… I woke up distressed.” He begins falteringly. “And I… did not wish to be… alone. So I thought I would call for you.” By the end he is mumbling, quiet and likely embarrassed. Bruce is proud of him all the same.

“Well, I’m here, and you’re not alone.” He says gently, leaning forward so that he is in Damian’s peripherals.

“I think that I do not want to be alone at all, tonight.” The boy says quietly.

 _‘Please stay with me.’_ Bruce can infer.

“That’s alright.” Bruce nods. His thumb skims the base of Damian’s neck. “Would you like to sleep in my room tonight?”

Bruce remembers nights where Dick would pad into his room, small and quiet and tearful. He remembers the boy clambering into his oversized bed and wriggling close enough to hold tight to his pyjamas. After a lifetime of sleeping within arms reach of his parents, it took Dick years to take to sleeping in a room on his own. The nightmares hadn’t helped either.

“No.” Damian says stubbornly, frowning. “Such a thing is childish.”

“Your brother slept next to me until he was twelve.” Bruce tells him. “But alright. Would you like me to come and sleep in here, instead?”

Damian is quiet for a moment as he considers. “That would be acceptable.” He murmurs after a moment.

Bruce smiles. “Then I’m going to grab pillows and blankets. I’ll be right back. Alright?”

“Yes.” Damian says, a little of his usual stubbornness returning to his tone. Bruce chuckles, and pats his son’s shoulder as he gets up to collect what he’ll need to camp out on the floor for a night.

When he returns, dressed in pyjamas and with enough blankets to make a comfortable pallet on the floor, Damian has rearranged his bed. His pillows and duvet are piled together into a small pseudo-nest which Damian is in the middle of, halfway to the edge of the mattress, the rest of the bed left empty. Damian is sat upright, absently rearranging and fluffing various part of his nest, looking thoughtful. Bruce sets up his own bedding beside the bed, and Damian watches him quietly.

Bruce doesn’t think he’ll get a reason for Damian’s upset – but he’s happy enough that this time, his son has reached out to him for comfort. He won’t press. Eventually, Damian will feel secure enough to tell him such things, but Bruce knows that will take time. Still. They have time.

“Lights off?” He asks once he’s ready to settle.

“Yes.” Damian nods, arranging himself between the sheets, tucking his blankets around him like a little cocoon. Bruce is certain the boy would resent the description of ‘snuggling’ for the way he settles to sleep, but it’s what he does regardless; snuggling down into the plush bedding, pulling the blanket right up to his chin and half hiding his face in the softness of the pillow. Bruce flips the switch on the lamp, and leans down to press a kiss to Damian’s temple.

“Sleep well, Damian.” He murmurs, before settling himself to sleep as well. In the dim light afforded by the moon peeking through a cracked-open curtain, he thinks he sees Damian’s eyes watching him, sharp and thoughtful.

“…Goodnight, Father.” Damian responds after a few long, quiet moments.

Bruce stays awake long enough for Damian’s breathing to soften and even out, before allowing himself to drift off as well.

*

When Alfred finds them in the morning on his way to wake Damian for school, Damian’s hand has left his cocoon to grasp hold of Bruce’s pyjamas. Bruce’s hand has moved up to rest gently over his son’s. Both of them are sleeping soundly, their expressions and their dreams peaceful.

(Alfred takes a picture.)

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading, and as always, any and all feedback is super appreciated!! 
> 
> (Please do once again keep in mind that I am not completely up to date on lore and continuity.)


End file.
